Name
by Becca the Evil
Summary: The lament from someone close to Lord Voldemort as a child. A songfic, to "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls.


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Title: Name

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Author: Becca the Evil

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Disclaimer: The song, "Name", belongs to the wonderful Goo Goo Dolls. The character of Lord Voldemort belongs to the prestigious Joanne Kathleen Rowling. I own the dissected frog, the little kittens, and Tara.

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Author Note:Errr...it was the M & Ms, not me! They're hallucinogenic, I swear! ::sigh:: Actually, I like this fic. I tried to make it angsty. And I have yet to use a beta-reader. Right now I'm working on different areas of stories to further develop the skills I need to play out this amazing idea I feel forming in the back of my head. Any reviews, constructive criticism, flames, or anything else is more than welcome. And now, on with the show!

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And even though the moment passed me by

I still can't turn away

I saw the dreams you never thought you'd lose

Tossed along the way

Letters that you never meant to send

Are lost and blown away

Tom, how could you? You're my brother! My one confidant in this cruel, dark world...my hero. You could have been the savior to so many. Tom, you wanted to change the world. Why did you fill your heart with the hate that was your downfall? Why did it have to turn out that way?

I remember our childhood like it was yesterday, even though it passed by so fast. You were the tall, skinny kid with the black hair and the twin sister. You were the kid at the orphanage that wanted to be the world famous doctor that changed lives. You wanted a place in the stars. During recess you dissected frogs to see their hearts beating, and you were the one who helped stray cats give birth. Your biggest dream was to find a way for mothers to live through giving birth, since you felt so guilty about what happened to our own mother. It's not my fault I was born first, and then you were born just before she died. Our mother wanted us to live, and if it was at the risk of her own life, it didn't matter. Tom, it wasn't your fault. But you never let the grudge go, and spent your time finding cures. You busy being brilliant, while I played hopscotch innocently with the other girls at the orphanage.

We were friends, we're we? I always could talk to you, and I could just laugh for hours and you'd let me. I finished your sentences. I thought I knew you so well, but I guess I was wrong.

One day you got that stupid letter you left me forever. A giant owl swooped into the playground, and dropped a piece of old parchment at your feet. You laughed, and then before I knew it, you were gone. A lady with blonde hair and a stern face took you away from me. You went to a place called Diagon Alley and came back with a magic wand. Magic. God, something I didn't believe. I went through so much in my young life, and the supernatural never fit into my urban existence. Yea, I mean, the orphanage was great to us, but nobody could ignore the gunshots in the background of the horrible neighborhood. But it was magic that made our Dad leave our Mom and magic that brought us up as orphans. I just couldn't believe magic existed since it never helped _us_...and then you came along with your books about Divination and cauldrons. You left to some boarding school far, far away. I didn't have the magic, so you left me all alone. Even though you came back every summer, your heart was at your sorcery school. And you knew magic was real, tangible, and more important than I was.

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And now we've grown up orphans

I never knew their names

We don't belong to no one, that's a shame.

You could hide beside me, maybe for awhile

And I won't tell no one your name

I won't tell your name

When you came back from boarding school in the summers everything was different. You even looked different. Your lovely brown eyes sunk into your face, and your black hair was streaked with gray. I was fascinated with what you _did_ at magic school, but all I ever got out of you was either mumbling, or obscenities. I began to think you cursed all day instead of talked...your graphic descriptions were terrifying. Tom, you shunned yourself from me. You shunned your dream of being a doctor. 

I wonder what our parents would have thought. Would they have wanted you to be so outwardly biting and hateful? What would they have done if they knew your plans for the rest of your life?

One day when you were locked in your room, I came up to see if I could talk to you. You were crying. My twin brother, the brave one, was pouring his eyes out. Your face was streaked with tears, and your voice crackled. I rushed in, and you cried on my shoulder. Tom, do you remember what you said? You told me that at your school, you were the best of your year. I was proud. You told me you had amazing ability, and that you had taken advantage of power. You were scared at the results, and I was scared with you. And you had these frequent cravings for omnipotence, stopping at nothing until you got what you wanted. You told me all about the wizarding world, their jargon, theories, mysteries, good, evil and history. I was dumbfounded.

Then you told me you changed your name. You were no longer just Tom Marvolo Riddle, but you were Lord Voldemort. Your friends at school preformed satanic rituals on you, to make you more powerful. They had occult meetings and made potions and new spells to make you stronger. Tom, what were you thinking? 

There is so much meaning in names. Your real name, Thomas, means twin. My name, Tara, means forgotten. And Voldemort means praetorian and evil.

Your name was meant to be concealed. You were so serious to the point where you threatened me with your magic wand. You horrified me, Tom, all at the sake of two words. Those words were a cryptic secret "with your most intimate friends". You were planning for world domination, and you had a mysterious plan that wasn't supposed to be let out until it was assured to work. Oh God, did you let it out. You made me promise on our mother's grave that I wouldn't let it slip. And I promised, and I still keep that promise. I won't tell anyone your name. 

Then, you said that you had a job to attend to in Little Hangleton. I never dared to ask what it was. You left, and the trail behind you was infused with electricity. All aside, Tom, you ran away from me. I never saw you again. You left your twin behind and went off to terrorize the world. And you succeeded...until Harry Potter.

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The scar's a souvenir he'd never lose

The past is never far

And did you lose yourself somewhere out there

Did you get to be a star

I would have never believed that my brother would be the one person I knew to go insane. Tom, you were stark raving mad. You struck terror into the hearts of the magical community, and gave up all mercy for hatred. At the peak of your power, you started going after the children of the people fighting for love, killing the babies and the fathers but leaving the mothers to grieve. That's a sick joke, Tom. Projecting the reverse of the way your life was onto the families of guiltless people is not going to change anything. And it was one of those projections in which you met your downfall.

Tom, why the Potters? I've heard so much. Was it because the baby was yours? Was it just that your hate manifested everywhere and they were just a random target? Is it because they were working against you? Tom, your hate was your downfall. Your death curse rebounded off of the little boy, and instead hit you. You were destroyed almost completely. 

You got your stupid power, Tom. But did you enjoy torturing people and watching their families deteriorate before your eyes? Was it some corrupted adrenaline rush for you? Did you love making people suffer? Tom, did you ever even love? Could the heart that turned so black ever love? Did you ever love me? Or were you ashamed that I didn't have magic in me? I heard about your loathing for non-magic people, Tom. But hate is truly blind. You are and always will be a half-blood wizard. Our Dad was a muggle, Tom. And I'm a squib. Does that disgust for mudded blood begin and end with me, Tom? Or did you love me?

You were famous, Tom. At least one of your aspirations was brought through. You were a star, but you were the star of death. Did you enjoy having your own Dark Mark that struck fear into every being on earth? Did that make you proud, Tom? Is it one of the qualities of a person meant to be a doctor and meant to help the world be better to scare his patients into shivers? How would I know? I'm just his sister, the muggle, the squib.

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Don't it make you sad to know that life

Is more than who we are

You grew up way to fast

And now there's nothing to believe

Re-runs all become our history

A tired song keeps playing on

A tired radio

And I won't tell no one your name

And I won't tell your name.

Tom, you could have been great. All of your God given talents were traded into Hell. You could have had your name in lights instead of a Dark Mark brandishing the mist. You were the one that toyed with Fate and chose your destiny. I honestly hope that you regret it, Tom. You weren't born evil...you made yourself that way. So don't blame me, or Mom, or Dad. Blame your own corruption and greed. I remember when we were innocent, and we sang and laughed and played. What happened to you?

You were gone too soon. The time I had with you seems like nothing at all. You were more mature than most adults when you were fourteen. You grew up too fast, Tom. I love you. I won't tell anyone that you killed hundreds of people. I won't tell them that you're the insane Lord Voldemort or the things you did that go with your conscript name. You'll always be Tom to me. I won't betray you, I won't tell them your name.

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I think about you all the time

But I don't need to think.

If it's lonely where you are

Come back down

And I won't tell your name.

I'm here. I know that deep beneath your mask is a little boy screaming to get out. I know that some miniscule part of Lord Voldemort is still my brother Tom. Come back, Tom. I'll say it a thousand, a million times. Come back. I won't tell them you're evil or corrupt, and you can cry in my arms any time that you want. I won't tell them your name.

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